


Medea

by saye0036



Series: Bond | Q | Alec Trevelyan | Silva | Blofeld- Stories [5]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Cannon-Typical Violence mentioned, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Obsession, Older Woman/Younger Man, Revenge, Threats of Violence, Unrequited Lust, implied threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:19:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6441187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saye0036/pseuds/saye0036
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the events of the James Bond film Skyfall, Silva and Blofeld meet to watch a play together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [detectivecaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivecaz/gifts), [angelmira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelmira/gifts).



> Medea is the tragic tale of the famed Jason's wife whom he leaves for a Greek princess. It is a story filled with lust, revenge and death.
> 
> This ancient play by Euripides displays how love can be twisted into something vicious and dreadful. 
> 
> The play was performed at the theatre Arcadia, in the Bibliotheca Alexandrina at the University of Alexandria, Egypt in 2008.
> 
> Thanks to detectivecaz for giving me the idea that Blofeld hired Silva to create the nine eyes programme.

Medea

Flashback: 2008

The message was succinct as usual. The embossed card black with gold. The tentacles spreading out over the globe under the creature.

Silva sighed as he rolled out of bed, planting his large feet, flat on the tiled floor. Severine rolled over and cocooned herself in the blankets and Gregory tossed an arm over her.

Silva growled and the man realized his mistake, turning back towards Silva. Gracing him with a grin and a low growl of his own. “Come back to bed.”

“I have been called. I will be back in a few days. Be good...or else.”

Silva eyed Severine’s back as he said this, knowing she was awake but feigning sleep.

Silva entered the shower to wash away the excesses from last evening. The warm water not removing the dread he felt. There was something moving, he could sense it.

Once dressed and packed he headed to the trains station and made his way to the locker that had the same number as the card. Within there was a flash drive and a plane ticket. A small wrapped package that he opened, practically giddy with anticipation.

A gift from Blofeld.  He moved out into the sun and hailed a cab. The flight was in three hours, his timing was always impeccable.

The package contained theatre tickets. The play was by the ancient Greek Euripides, the Medea at the theatre Arcadia. The Bibliotheca Alexandrina at the University of Alexandria, Egypt.

“Oh what fun! Big brother wants to take me to a show.” Silva chuckled to himself.

Silva smirked considering the Greek tragedy he was going to see, and the ancient city in which to see the play.

Blofeld was not a man that he liked to spend much time with. He appreciated the helping hand he gave him all those years ago.  And of course, the wealth. The money and means to create the systems the man wanted.  But Silva didn’t like coming when he was called.

Like a dog called to heel. Like when he worked for her…

Silva moved through the scanner at the airport knowing it would go off because of his jaw. It was an amazing distraction to get all sorts of lovely things through security. He would never bring down a plane with him on it.  That would be absurd.  Nor would he allow anyone else to end his life.

There was only one woman who held his life in the palm of her small hand and still to this day it lingered.  She was long gone and that irked him.  Silva would have to go on living and tripping through this life in pain, with all these unresolved revenge fantasies.

It was not healthy...but neither was he.

Occasionally Silva shot or tortured someone who displeased him. That was always fun, until it wasn't and then he just felt empty.

The woman who did this to him was long gone. He would never feel the release of holding his hands around her tiny, soft neck. Those blue eyes boring into him. The feeling of his release...the small death between the two of them. Possibly followed by her very real death by his hands.

If he could...would he end her life or keep her for a pleasurable toy? If she was alive she would be in her 60’s now, but she would still smell just as sweet. He had always wanted to taste her.

Perhaps he would take an agent...someone from MI6 to play with for some time. He had not been around anyone English in an age. He would have to speak the language with Blofeld because his German was not so good.

Maybe they would have tea together after the play, or dinner. Something that reminded him of England and the woman he would destroy countries to bring back from the dead, just to have her to himself. Oh what he would do to her if given the chance.

*****

The dry heat of Egypt hit Silva as he stepped through the door. He took a cab and checked into a nice hotel. Blofeld was likely staying nearby but he knew better than to look for him. They would only meet at the appointed time and at the play.

The Medea was a classic tale of a wronged woman, a woman scorned by her husband. So much that her rage overcame all motherly instincts and she killed her own children for revenge on Jason, her unfaithful husband.

Silva ponderd the significance of the play as he worked away on his laptop. An alarm sounded to stop him. He had taken to setting one while he worked or he would forget to do the basics, eat, drink and wash if he didn't interrupt himself. Without any of his people here to care for his every need he must again become self reliant.

Silva stretched and moved about the room to have a drink and take a quick shower to get ready for the play.

Within ninety minutes he was standing in the lobby looking around for his big brother to come find him. Blofeld can be tricky one. He may come with an entourage or he may be alone. It depended on his mood. In that way he and Silva are quite similar. Sometimes they just like to be alone with their thoughts or in this case an ancient Greek play.

The bell rang signalling the curtain call. Silva moved to his seat, a balcony box overlooking the stage, yet private enough to hide them from suspicious eyes.

Blofeld was there. He didn’t even turn to look but watched the stage with focus. Silva said nothing as the play began. Now it was a waiting game to see what Blofeld wanted.

Towards the end of the play Blofeld turned to Silva and whispered, “love and vengeance. The woman who they call the barbarian destroys them all for revenge. Who are you in this play?”

“I am she who is Medea.” Blofeld smiled at Silva’s admission.

“Good, I had thought you would try to be Jason for the obvious and abundant masculine similarities. That leaves the question...who is Jason?”

“Jason is the woman who made me. The one who took me from the streets, created and moulded me into what she needed. I both hate and love her for that and she betrayed me in the end. Long ago in China I died because of her, in order to be reborn as I am now.”

“Medea killed her children to have the ultimate revenge on the man she loved and was forsaken by. Would you do no less?”

“I would. Why? Do you have a troublesome MI6 agent for me to play with?”

“I do but he is my cross to bear, much like that woman was to you. I will let you play with him but it’s for me to decide when he dies. Much like a cat I prefer to play with my kill before…”

“I agree. You and I are much alike, I think.”

“Yes, you could say that Raoul. What would you do to her if you could have her before you now?”

“I would kill her eventually, but not until I have humiliated her in every way I can.”

“Would you cross that line?”

“What line?”

Blofeld looked at me with his brows raised in question as he shrug his shoulders.

“That line...you mean physically and sexually?”

“I wondered how much love was mixed with your hatred? I think you wanted her once.”

“Yes...I admit it. I did. When I met her she was in her forties. Still had a good body and blonde hair. With eyes that disarmed even the toughest of men. Her eyes made one wonder what they would look like with her under you screaming for more. She had a voice that could sooth a tormented soul and humiliate with her admonishments.”

“That was 20 years ago. What would you do to her now?”

I shrug knowing that this was but a game between us and nothing could ever come of it. “Much the same.”

The play ended and the applause sounded. Blofeld and we remained seated. He reached into his jacket pocket and handed Silva an envelope. My next mission, I assumed.

“I am busy building the programme, what do you need me for now?” Silva said with a hint of annoyance.

Blofeld laughed, “cuckoo, I am giving you a gift. In my digging I came across something that I thought you would enjoy. In one of our conversations years ago I remember the name of the woman who destroyed you. You told me she was married to an academic.

Silva frowned in confusion and looked down at the envelope in his hands. He opened it gingerly and slid the contents out slowly.

Two pictures and a newspaper clipping came out.

The same short hair...the face...my god! “How!” Silva could see from the clipping, that Nigel Mansfield died a few months ago. The picture of the widow who was not mentioned by name, nor was the fact he was married to her at all. No children are listed yet there are two standing beside the older woman.

“I know that this woman in the photo is M, the head of MI6. I’ve seen pictures before, but what triggered my investigation was the name Mansfield. Such an appropriate name for a woman who disappeared from life over eight years ago. You assumed that she had died, but in reality she too was transformed. From stations head of Hong Kong, to M the head of MI6 itself. Now you see why I invited you away from your work for me?”

“Yes...my God...yes. You are giving her to me?”

“Yes, in so far as it furthers my own revenge. You see M has a new favourite.” Blofeld handed Silva another photo, this one of a young handsome blond agent.

“Who is this man?” Silva said through clenched teeth.

“James Bond, my former foster brother. The man who took my father’s attention and time he stayed with us. I have already killed his lover Vesper in Venice, but now he grows very close to M. I thought I should tell you she lived, once I found out that she is also Olivia Mansfield. The very woman who abandoned you to die in China, all those years ago. I planned on leaving her alone, unless she got too close to our organization.”

“No...you mustn't”

“She is mired in Quantum right now. Mr. White almost killed her in Italy.”

“What!”

“Yes. I’m not happy with his performance of late.”

“I will kill him for you.”

“No...no, not yet. Besides, you are better used elsewhere. Why the sudden urge to kill? Is it because I don’t want her dead yet?”

“No and I don’t want you to kill her at all. She and I have unfinished business. I will kill this Bond if he gets in my way. I will not apologize for it either. She is all that concerns me.”

“No, do not harm him, yet. The final kill is for me to decide, and I have not yet decided.”

“I want her.”

“I thought you might.”

“When?”

“Not yet. I am intrigued by her. She must be formidable woman to have a job in a man's field like that and for years now. No pun intended.”

“If you take her, will you give her to me once you’re done with her?”

“Perhaps, I will see. Do not go after her yourself. I will not have our hand tipped at this point. Besides, I need Bond to become even closer to his mommy figure and then we will kill her.”

“How can you be so sure they are close?”

Blofeld handed him a picture of a man hanging upside down in a building under construction, dead and dirty from whatever he was doing before his death.

“This is what Bond did to her bodyguard who White paid to shoot her.”

Silva frowned, “he shot her?”

“Well, he missed but it didn’t stop her new agent lover from chasing him down and doing this to him.”

“They are lovers?” Silva asked his eyes going wide.

“I assume they are. With the way he fights for her, it reminds me of another agent I know whose talents had the Chinese right in the palm of his hands to impress her, until she betrayed him. Jason and Medea. Or Oedipus Rex, I don’t think her wrinkles dissuade my dear brother. It’s like that with orphans. Kill the father to lay with the mother, or in this case kill the targets to lay with the boss. Now that she’s a merry widow he is free to try. Although, I cannot see even her marriage stopping Bond from trying. My brother has always had a way with women. They’re usually disposable, but not her. Not your M.”

“My M, yes and she will be before the end. I have dreamt of what I would do to her...but I thought her dead already. I should have dug harder!”

“It wouldn’t have helped. I honestly could find nothing on the woman. I just knew what M looked like from rare captured images. It was you talking to me of her all those years ago, that triggered the discovery. I have a standard search for any public images of the head of MI6 and then this funeral came to my attention. She really should have changed her husband’s name also. As for the children there are no good images, nor names I could find, but you could dig deeper for us. I would like to have more ammunition against her and perhaps she could become a useful ally.”

Silva chuckled. “You obviously don’t know Olivia. She could be the Queen's cousin she’s so loyal to the idea of Britannia.”

“Still, what a consort she could make. It would drive Bond to distraction and keep him in line. Or I could use him to keep her in line. What do you think?” Blofeld said with his brows raised and a smirk on his face.

“I think you should leave her to me.” Silva said with a warning timbre to his voice.

“Suit yourself, but not until I say so. Make your plans to take her but do nothing until I say it is time. Oh and should you take her, I would like to meet her at least once before her untimely demise.” Blofeld said with a shrug. He turned away from Silva as the last patrons of the play filtered out of the audience.

Silva knew when he was being dismissed.  He got up and whirled dramatically behind the curtain of the balcony and departed. He’s equal parts enraged and delighted that she lived. Just as his was equal parts enraged by Blofeld’s and Bond’s interest in her.  Delighted that she could now be his. M would live or die buy his hand, not Blofeld’s. It would soon be time for mommy dearest to pay for what she had done to him.

Medea killed a king and his daughter, who was to wed Jason. Jason tried to reason with the hot blooded barbarian and keep her as a mistress, but in those days it could be a death sentence for their children anyway. No, Medea destroyed it all just to watch her former husband Jason suffer. Silva will destroy MI6 and all M holds most dear. Her reputation will be destroyed first and then her beloved Bond will die, even if Blofeld wants him for his own amusement.

If James Bond inserted himself between Silva and Olivia Mansfield, he would die. Silva smiled as he walked away from the theatre with a sudden spring in his step. He now had a purpose and a direction with his need for revenge.

M, the woman he had panted and sweat over other men and women thinking about. Revenge and sexual fantasies danced through the disjointed thoughts in his head. In some, she became his mistress and in others he choked the life out of her as she lashed out at him for his insubordination.

Silva would dig up more images of her and those around her. He would stare at her, the mother and master of all Britain’s spies. She would have no idea because, she thought him dead. Just as he thought she was.

Silva was quite aware that his name was engraved in a place of honour in MI6. If only she had honoured him as much in life, as she did when he was thought dead from torture. She had her normal life with the perfect family...even if the man cheated on her. Silva had the audacity to point it out to her, much to her extreme anger.

Her eyes were so sexy the way they flashed at him, daring him to step closer. Tiago walked the line that night, but he was too timid then and did not press. How different this all might have been had she caved to his charms that night so long ago. The passion they would have ignited would have ended her tired sham of a marriage. Tiago would have ruined her for other men as she had ruined him for other women!

“M, M my lovely M, Olivia by another name.” He whispered to himself as he walked down the street. M’s age holds no dominion over him. It didn’t then, and from the looks of her now, age had touched her lightly. Her hair was no longer the sunny blonde it was, but a white halo around her head. "No matter how age has changed us my love, our eyes are the same windows into our souls." He muttered and laughed as he walked along getting stares from the people near by.

“Mommy dearest, wait until you see me now. I will not let you look through me as you did all those years ago. We will have our time and if your new toy boy gets in the way, he will be eliminated. ”

Silva gazed at the picture of Bond again, he was handsome and rugged. Just the way mommy liked her boys. Beautiful and damaged orphans, who need her as much as she needed them. Silva imagined having James cave and consent to a three way relationship, in order to keep the woman alive. He would want to touch her… but she would belong to Silva only. Doubtful the man would want to share her...her husband didn’t and Silva won’t share her regardless of any deal he may have made with Blofeld.

Silva would let the entire extent of Spectre understand that M, was off limits now. Quantum would be destroyed, should White even be in the same country as his love and future mistress. M would live at his sufferance only, just as he did for her all those bitter and lonely years ago.

Alas, for the meantime Silva would have to content himself with his fantasies and his other, less stimulating playthings. He gazed down at the images in his hand. Of the beautiful blond agent and the still lovely woman who held his leash. He was her dog after all.  The only master he had ever had since he was a child.  Silva wondered if James Bond wanted her the way he had always wanted her?

The end


End file.
